


a piece of that fractured mountain

by yoongoogles



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cabin Fic, Character Study, Choi Jongho-centric, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Vacation, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Friends to Lovers, Jongho is confused, Light Angst, M/M, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Snowed In, Sweet Hwang Hyunjin, and i am going to fix that, it's a party aye, oh my god there was only one bed, there isn't enough jonghwa, using every goddamn cliche in the book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoongoogles/pseuds/yoongoogles
Summary: Jongho, for the most part, wears his solitude like a comforting sweater, but lately being alone is taking its toll.His friends plan a trip in the mountains, renting out cabins in a pretty area to have fires and go snowboarding together. It's supposed to be a nice Christmas vacation, until he finds out that he'll be stuck with Seonghwa in a cabin clearly meant for couples. They're barely friends as it is, how is he supposed to get through the weekend sharing a bed with Park Seonghwa?And even worse - how is he to handle a blizzard trapping them inside?
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 25
Kudos: 83





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> the category is: christmas cliches, darling. 
> 
> hello i'm back and i'm bringing you the love labor of a fun "who in ateez would die if i shoved them in a cabin with one bed and snowed them in" conversation with my wonderful friend @undeliveredtruth. there is not enough jongho content in general and certainly nothing of jongho x seonghwa, and i'm changing that. 
> 
> before we begin thanks to @eledae and @undeliveredtruth for being patient and reassuring with me and reading ))): I love you guys very much, you are amazing. check out their works if you haven't already - they're some of the best writers i've ever encountered and their content is so unique. 
> 
> title is from "A Piece of Your Heart" by Mayday Parade

Jongho likes to be alone. He has friends, sure, even  _ best  _ friends that he spends hours and days with doing endless activities or nothing at all together. And it’s great. He loves his friends. 

But, he finds he is at his best when he is out doing things he likes by himself. He bundles under the cloak of isolation and finds comfort there; in the aisles of bookstores, at a cafe far away from his friend’s usual routes, on a midnight walk by the river. These are all the things that Jongho never takes for granted. When he’s overwhelmed or it’s hard to get out of bed, he spends some time with himself and he feels  _ better.  _

Mingi worries for him. He tells him so one night on a walk from the convenience store back to his apartment. Jongho had listened to his friend’s concerns and tried not to take it too personally; he constantly wonders if the time he uses for himself is selfish. Or is it unhealthy? Everywhere you look, there are couples and families and groups of friends out doing the things that Jongho likes to do. Eating in a restaurant, getting a coffee and simply enjoying the cafe atmosphere, going to a movie. People look at him strangely for it, he knows, but he doesn’t mind so much. He’s learned to take pride in solitude.

He’s used to operating alone, is the thing. He was conditioned to entertain and care for himself growing up. Independence at such a young age flourished him into the responsible adult he is now; he rents his apartment for a little less than he makes working evenings at the ramen restaurant, just enough leftover to pay for groceries and whatever little things he could need. Not much to build a savings on, but enough that he doesn’t struggle or want for much. 

It’s just something he’s always done. When his social battery drains and blankets look too inviting, he knows he needs to recharge quietly and in peace. Most of his friends have come to this understanding, though they don’t enjoy it that much. He disappears off the radar to the point that they come knocking on his door after the fourth day, usually. Or, at least Mingi does. And Mingi smothers him in his cuddles until Jongho feels up to talking. It works.

That’s where he’s at right now. Jongho wills the shadowed feet underneath the front door to leave, focused on the steady way Mingi stands and patiently waits on the other side for Jongho to answer. It might be the fifth day that he’s gone by without talking to them this time, he isn’t actually sure. Between late shifts turning later with the shroud of winter falling down on the city and the weather cascading snow and ice most days, he finds he’s been too tired to even look at his phone. He feels bad for it, but the voice in his head tells him that he needs more time. 

Mingi doesn’t give up easily, though. 

“I have neighbors, you know.” Jongho sighs as he unlocks the door, already waddling back to the couch with his favorite blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Maybe if you’d come to the door the first time, I wouldn’t have resorted to nearly banging it down.” Mingi isn’t upset. The snark in his tone is playful in that way of his. It loosens a knot in Jongho’s shoulders to hear it come so easily. 

“Didn’t hear you.” He settles back into the pit in his cushions, worn well with age from occupants before his time. The apartment had come furnished from a college student who “left suddenly” after breaking a lease and never returning for their things. Jongho didn’t question it. 

“Bullshit. Are you almost done cranking that dusty-ass Duracell in your chest back up? We want to go to the mountains this weekend for some snowboarding.” 

“I don’t know how to snowboard.” Jongho deadpans, stifling a groan as Mingi throws himself onto the couch so hard it pushes them backwards on impact. He tosses an arm across the back of it until the tips of his fingers land on Jongho’s shoulder, the first contact he’s had in days. It feels nice. He loves being touched.

“Neither do I. Yunho said he’d teach us. And you pick up things so fast, I’m sure it’ll be a fuckin’ breeze for you.” Mingi snorts, letting his hand fall to cup Jongho’s shoulder and squeeze. The warmth of his palm bleeds into Jongho’s skin and reminds him that as much as he needs alone time, he needs this more. 

He scoots forward until he’s pressed into Mingi’s side, his arm wrapping tightly around Jongho’s shoulders in a relaxed embrace. If he lets out a little sigh at the heat of Mingi’s body immediately engulfing him even through the blanket, that’s just for them. 

Maybe, in another world, Mingi would be more than his best friend. It’s not that he hasn’t tried. He confessed to Jongho on a drunken karaoke night with the guys about six or so months ago, Jongho’s long since lost track of the time this year, and had shaken Jongho up so badly he went off grid for two entire weeks. They’d been watching Hongjoong and Wooyoung get progressively drunker and way more touchy until Woo wound up in his lap with Hongjoong’s hands securely wrapped around him, clasped together on his lean stomach and pulling Woo back to rest against his chest. And Mingi had been leaning his entire body weight against Jongho’s side, half of his limbs sprawled out over his lap, and said, “ _ I think I like you like that.”  _

A mistake on his part, Jongho is sure. They didn’t talk about it again, in fact, have never brought it up. When Jongho returned from his Friend-Hiatus, Mingi had simply hugged him and handed him a takeout box with a small smile. It felt a bit sad but not as though Mingi was upset anymore. It felt more pitying than anything, which confused him immensely, but he shoved it to the backburner. He needed to make things right again, so that’s what he focused on. 

And then Yunho came into the picture. And he is great, he’s excellent, he’s the missing puzzle piece to their motley crue. He’s smart and handsome and so funny, and Mingi had taken one look and fallen head over heels in love with him, and Jongho couldn’t blame him at all. 

“-good for us, good for  _ you _ , to get out of here for a little bit, don’t you think?” Jongho tunes back in just as Mingi shakes his shoulder once, just for good measure to make sure he’s listening, and startles him into agreeing. 

“When?”

“Over the holiday weekend.” Two weeks from now. Jongho can do that. It’ll give him enough time to prepare himself, to build up the energy he’ll need while he’s away. “Hongjoong found a set of cabins for rent by that one pass Wooyoung is scared of. Four cabins between us all shouldn’t be that bad, right?”

Oh. They mean they’ll split all the rooms, two to a room.  _ Cabin.  _ Right, cabins. The itch under Jongho’s skin that dulled the second Mingi touched him now sputters to life again. 

Yunho and Mingi will take a room, Hongjoong and Wooyoung, Yeosang and San have been secretly messing around with each other since last year. And he’s all too aware that he’s the odd one out, or that means-

“What’s the nightly rate?”

“Mmm, close to a hundred. We just want to stay three nights, but split between all of us it’ll be easy to cover. Plus, hyungs are bringing lots of food to cook so we don’t have to go out or shop while we’re there.” 

One hundred dollars per night. Jongho can’t afford to spend three hundred dollars on his own cabin, and he would feel awful trying to make Seonghwa choose between crashing with a couple or spending extra money for his own cabin, too. But...it’s...

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m sure if you want to room with me, I can work something out with Yunho-” And there he goes, already putting himself out just to support Jongho.

It’s not that him and the eldest of the group don’t get along. It’s just that they’ve never been alone together. He is only ever with Seonghwa when the others are. He’s never really thought about bonding with just Seonghwa apart from all of them, and it seems Seonghwa hadn’t either. Neither one of them had approached the other to genuinely get to know each other. They’re friends, absolutely they’re friends. They’re just not the kind of friends who sleep in the same room together, alone, in the middle of the mountains. 

Jongho can’t displace Yunho, either. 

“No no, it’ll be okay, hyung. That’s fine. I’m excited to learn.” The smile he gives Mingi as he untucks himself from his hold is genuine, if a bit cloying. Just to reassure Mingi that he means it. 

What’s the worst that can happen?

  
  
  


Turns out, the worst that can happen comes in the form of Seonghwa standing awkwardly to the side of the group, watching with wide eyes as the sets of keys with quirky passes attached to the rings are distributed by Hongjoong. He looks increasingly pained as each set is taken and the owner departs with their partner, off to whichever cabin is theirs for the next few days. Almost like he hadn’t expected to be stuck with Jongho. 

“See ya, suckers.” Wooyoung holds his palm out for a key with a duck figurine attached -which he promptly coos over- but the sound distorts and reverbs in Jongho’s head as he carefully studies Seonghwa’s expression. He’s doing that thing again with his face, where he tries to smile but it looks miserable. Jongho resolutely ignores the bold look Wooyoung sends his way as he hikes his and Hongjoong’s bags onto his shoulders, nearly skipping past them to the cabin furthest from the rest of the cluster. 

Good. He’s not sure he’d last three days having to overhear whatever the two of them get up to in the dark. 

No, he’s busy watching the subtle way Seonghwa’s face seems to fall as the very last key - what looks like the Coca-Cola polar bear ring- is passed from Hongjoong’s mittened hand to Seonghwa’s red, cold fingers. “Hyung, you and Jongho have cabin D, right there in the middle.” And Hongjoong doesn’t even look a little bit sorry to either of them before he turns to go after Wooyoung. 

Yeosang and San had promptly slammed the door of their cabin shut, though Yunho and Mingi’s - the closest to Jongho’s- is propped open with a snowboard as Yunho retrieves their baggage from the back of Hongjoong’s van. That takes some of the weight off of Jongho’s shoulders. 

He can do this. It’s only a few days. 

It looks like Seonghwa had been expecting to crash with one of the couples, though. He appears a bit more crestfallen as he blinks at the key in his hand, trembling as the wind barrels through the trees and picks up drifts of snow. Something stings at his reaction - Jongho hadn’t realized their relationship was this  _ strained  _ compared to the others. He liked Seonghwa well enough, he thought they got along great. The silence they share felt like an agreement, that they are on the same page. Apparently, he hadn’t been right about that at all.

God, Jongho wants to go home already. 

Yunho trudges past him with a suitcase, winking as if they share a secret, and it’s then that Jongho realizes the crunch underfoot is new snow building up what’s already there. He takes a moment to look around and finds that he’d been too busy assessing Seonghwa to really appreciate where they’ve escaped to. 

They’re deep in the forest, though their cabins are close enough to an overlook into the valley below. The snow is thinner in the city where it’s warmer but here it packs, covering the trees on every branch and piling high on the boulders. The air is clean and refreshing, like sipping cold water after a long workout, but it’s definitely much colder than he’s used to. Hongjoong told them on the way up that the cabins have wood stoves instead of heated floors and that they’re stocked up on firewood for well over their time here. The cabin’s exteriors have colorful Christmas lights hanging from them in a homely fashion. Jongho loves Christmas lights. 

There’s a communal fire pit in the center of the cabins, which will be useful for marshmallows and coffee in the morning if it doesn’t get too cold. The weather reports indicated not much more than two inches of snow, possibly less than that on their side of the mountain. They’re too low to board or ski right here so they’ll have to go further into the mountains to find the ski resorts. 

It’s good. It’s beautiful, it’s quiet, it’s the kind of peace Jongho would want for himself in the future if he reaches retirement age. 

He sneaks a peek at Seonghwa, confused at the way the key is clenched in his fist as he turns his face to the sky. Jongho glances up and sees a flurry of soft snow beginning to fall down on them, collecting in the divots of his face and sticking to his eyelashes. 

“I’ll get the bags.” Seonghwa nods without looking at him, too focused on whatever’s so interesting about the sky, and Jongho excuses himself to the back of the van. 

He’s never understood really why Seonghwa’s been so...unapproachable when it comes to him. Jongho has seen him melt into a certifiable puddle over San clinging on to him, hand feed little bits of meat and fried veggies to Yeosang and thumb at sauce on his lips, place Wooyoung’s head in his lap and run fingers through his hair lovingly. And there had been a yearning at first, for Seonghwa to treat him like that, too. He’d thought maybe Seonghwa just took a while to come around, but after a year, nothing changed. Then, he assumed it had more to do with Jongho’s sexuality, though he’s not sure why that would matter.

Jongho has always known he isn’t straight. Until he met his friends, it hadn’t occurred to him that he was allowed to explore those feelings safely, and for the most part, he still hasn’t. He’s had girlfriends and loved them so, treated them the best he could, touched them with something like awe in his fingertips hoping it translates into their skin. But, some time ago after a bad relationship, he stopped seeking out that familiar touch. He found that the affections from his friends filled him up enough.

Mingi and Wooyoung get the closest. He’s kissed Wooyoung, drunk in the club, hot hands wrapped around his neck and creeping into his shirt to scratch lightly at his back. And when he opened his eyes instead of meeting Wooyoung’s, he found Seonghwa sitting at the bar, sipping his drink cooly and watching them with shining eyes. Hongjoong was next to him, hand on knee, literally cracking up at the image of Wooyoung grinding against Jongho. Somehow, Jongho knew he wouldn’t mind, but it still complicated the way he viewed his friendships and that night changed the way he navigated their touches. It’s so hard to interpret when it all feels natural, like nothing is out of place by receiving a kiss when he needs one from whoever’s willing. And Mingi, well, he’s basically just a large lap dog personified; never too intimate, never too platonic, just a perfect medium of cushion draped over top of Jongho. 

So, no, maybe it’s not his sexuality, then. They’re all, on some level, part of the boys loving boys club here. He just doesn’t have another explanation for it. 

Movement snaps him out of his train of thought, glancing up through the snow dusted windshield just as he’s reaching for Seonghwa’s duffle bag when he sees it. For the first time all morning, Seonghwa is smiling, brilliantly and childlike as clusters of snowflakes land on his face. He sticks his tongue out to catch a couple, closing his eyes and swaying in tune to the chilly breeze. It’s a movie moment, something Jongho feels almost invasive witnessing. 

Seonghwa’s sharp features are rounded out in this moment, looking more like a fascinated child during the first snow of the year than his usual self. A twinge in Jongho’s brain tells him to look away, to grab their bags and shut the trunk loudly and try to start the weekend without that image behind his eyes every time he closes them. He doesn’t.

Silently, he curses Hongjoong for ruffling his hair in the car this morning and telling him, “You’ll be alright champ, it’s just a few days.” Like he was privy to knowledge Jongho was not. 

He shuts the trunk quietly and lifts their bags so they don’t get wet, though Seonghwa’s is significantly heavier than his own and he feels unbalanced almost immediately. 

“Do you need help?” Seonghwa’s voice calls but Jongho knows he isn’t actually offering. He doesn’t mind. 

“No thank you, hyung. Just get the door for me please.” 

  
  


⛄

  
  


“Oh.” 

“Uh.”

“Okay.” 

“Is that...is there supposed to be…”

“More than one? Yeah, I assumed so.”

“Should-”

“I’ll go talk to Hongjoong.” 

Seonghwa is out the door before Jongho has even set their stuff down. As soon as the door clicks shut, it’s like he took all of the noise in the world with him. Not even the crackle of the burning wood in the stove reaches Jongho’s ears. 

Of course. Of course it was going to be this way.  _ This  _ is why everyone disappeared so quickly, averting eye contact until their own doors shut behind them.  _ This  _ is why Hongjoong had taken special care to affirm that Jongho would survive three days with them. 

In the center of the cabin is a large king bed with a magnificent looking down-comforter, the kind you sink into and can’t get out of if you wanted to. But it’s just one. 

Because  _ of course  _ it’s just one. 

The rest of the cabin is nice, though. Jongho is reluctant to unpack until Seonghwa comes back with whatever he’s expecting Hongjoong to do about  _ this,  _ so he busies himself wandering the room and taking it all in. 

The wood is warm to the touch from the stove heat and smells incredible, like the sap is what cements the long blocks together. Jongho hasn’t been in a place like this since he took family trips as a kid into the mountains and it feels nice in a way he hadn’t expected. The furniture is sparse since these cabins aren’t meant for long term stay, but there’s a loveseat with a handmade blanket tossed over the back of it and a rocking chair next to the stove. The loveseat is a deep mustard yellow that would be repulsive anywhere else but fits right in here, blending into the aesthetic as well as anything. 

Jongho moves into the space, admiring the high vaulted ceilings and the singular lighting fixture hanging in the center. It’s kind of like a chandelier without so many dangling bits, which he appreciates. No frills, nothing out of a magazine. Everything looks hand-crafted. He loves it.

There’s a television above a mantle, surprisingly, and a placard with instructions on how to surf the channels and connect to the wifi. He’s not one for that kind of thing when he’s on vacation; he brought two books he’s been meaning to catch up on and he intends on doing just so even if it kills him to finish at least one. He doesn’t really have time otherwise. 

The bathroom is a bit colder than the rest of the cabin but the inside is dark and luxurious, like it’s meant for lovers rather than just being a functional facility. Candles line the shelves and different kinds of soaps catch his eye next to a basin sink. 

This is the kind of place he could spend forever alone in. 

Except he’s not. And he’s relatively sure that their friends knew this is what they were doing to Jongho and Seonghwa. 

He can’t be mad. Maybe this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back on Seonghwa and their strange way of interacting with one another. Maybe they’re pushing Jongho to finally open up and try something new. Maybe they just didn’t want to spend the nights apart just for the sake of their single friends. 

Wait, is Seonghwa single? Jongho isn’t even sure. Usually the friend group absorbs significant others like bubbles returning to soapy water - it’s how they got Wooyoung and San, after all. He’s positive that if Seonghwa were dating someone, he’d already have heard their name at least. 

A knock on the front door draws him out of the bathroom, closing it neatly behind him with every intention to thrust Hongjoong in here and quietly demand what the fuck he was thinking the second he can get out of Seonghwa’s earshot. 

“Hongjoong knew.” Is the first thing Seonghwa says when he sees Jongho. He looks angry; his arms are crossed and the polar bear keychain dangles from his closed fist, pressed tightly against his chest. Hongjoong has the gall to look a bit sheepish, likely scolded within an inch of his life outside. 

“I mean, I figured he did.”

“Look guys, this isn’t like, a couple’s retreat or anything. The cabins are standard! This is just how it is!”

“I asked you  _ very  _ clearly if there were double bed options and you said, ‘Oh yes hyung, of course! I would  _ never  _ put you in an awkward position like that.’” When he imitates Hongjoong, Seonghwa pitches his voice up and claps his hands together, smiling slyly like he knows something no one else does. He does a very convincing Hongjoong, honestly. Jongho tries very hard not to crack a smile. 

“I thought there would be! The others don’t have double beds, either.”

“Well they’re all  _ sleeping  _ with each other.” Seonghwa looks like he’s sucked on sour candy for too long. Jongho senses a (rightfully deserved) tantrum coming on and sighs, debating whether or not to step in. 

“Is it really that big of a deal, Seonghwa?”

“It isn’t. I’ll just take the couch if that makes you more comfortable.” Jongho interrupts, though when he takes a second look, it would be a tight fit for him and an impossible feat for Seonghwa. He could manage if he had to. Maybe he’ll revisit the idea of asking to borrow Wooyoung one night. Seonghwa and Hongjoong seem close enough to room together, anyway. 

“What are you, crazy? Look at that thing. It breeds dust.” Seonghwa scoffs, turning back to Hongjoong with a new desperation. “Can you talk with the lodging agent and just see if there’s other options?” 

“Seonghwa, there’s only another set of four cabins across the way from us and they’re also occupied this weekend. Come on, it’s just for a few days. Jongho sleeps like a brick. He hardly moves. And in a bed that big you’ll never even know he’s there.” As he talks, he inches closer to the door until his hand wraps around the handle, prepared to make a wild dash for freedom if Seonghwa chooses to chase after him. 

Seonghwa does not look happy. He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up until all the flurries are out of his bangs and his undercut shows. He must have product in it because when he lets go, it stands in all different directions. It still looks soft enough to-

“Okay. Alright. Just go, we’ll figure it out.” Half of Hongjoong’s body hangs out the door as Seonghwa dismisses him. 

“Are you sure? I mean I can totally stay and like, mediate or something-” He says, even as he pulls the door closer and closer until it shuts in his own face. “Good luck guys!” Muffled from behind the door, and then the crunching of retreating footsteps through snow. 

This time, the silence is heavier. The wood feels a bit more constricting than it did when it was just Jongho exploring his new home away from home. The heat no longer feels welcoming. 

“I’m sorry, this really isn’t about you. I’m just...yeah, it isn’t about you.” Seonghwa breaks the tension, though just barely. More like he creates a fissure, a point of contact that can either widen or narrow depending on how they interact from now on. 

It certainly feels like he’s lying, but Jongho won’t call his bluff. It’ll just complicate things more. The way he sees it, he can make the couch work or he can not get any sleep at all next to Seonghwa for the next three days. It’s not much Seonghwa is sacrificing, really. 

“I didn’t think it was, hyung.” Seonghwa turns disbelieving eyes on Jongho, but he shrugs in response. No point carrying on further. It is what it is. 

Seonghwa seems to come to the same conclusion rather quickly. “Okay. Uh, well, I still don’t want you to sleep on this.” He steps closer to inspect the couch, pulling a face so disgusted at the thin layer of dust over the throw blanket that Jongho almost laughs. “Look at that! No, no way.” He backs away from the couch and finally goes off to explore the rest of the cabin on his own. 

There’s a little wooden table on the other side of the couch, just long enough to fit their bags on. Jongho places them there and unzips his own to go through until he hears a choked gasp from the bathroom. When he peeks around the corner, he finds Seonghwa’s back in the doorway of the bathroom, arm posed up as though he’s turned on the light switch. 

There aren’t exactly rose petals everywhere to rub it in that, yes, this is actually a couple’s cabin, but one can infer that the candles aren’t just for a lovely bath time before bed. 

Jongho chuckles to himself as he turns back to his bag, interested in setting out his clothes for the evening and toiletries for the bathroom, whenever Seonghwa stops gawking in the doorway. 

If Jongho thought his own reaction to their situation was a bit dramatic, it pales in comparison to the very large worried bird circling the rest of the cabin, one knuckle between his teeth as he checks over the entire area. Jongho isn’t sure why Seonghwa’s so bothered by this; he knew he’d be rooming with Jongho, the only new development is that they have to share a bed. 

Actually, he’s starting to get a bit antsy based on Seonghwa’s unwillingness to just calm the fuck down. Hongjoong is right - Jongho barely moves in his sleep. It’s starting to irritate him that the energy rolling off of Seonghwa is affecting him so much. 

“I’m gonna go see what the others are planning for the rest of the night, okay?” And it’s like Seonghwa doesn’t even hear him. He hums to show he heard Jongho, but he doesn’t turn away from the bed, striking a pondering pose like he’s trying to find a Jenga block to pull without demolishing the tower. 

  
  
  
  


Stepping outside again is like getting into a cold shower. It hits him at once, though he finds it more comforting than being in that godforsaken cabin. 

He’ll calm down. He just needs time. 

Yunho and Mingi’s cabin is a safer bet to convene in than Woo or San’s. He supposes that he won’t see much of either of them until later. 

As he makes his way over to their cabin, he catches sight of a taller boy with long blonde hair piled on top of his head in a messy bun across the firepit, pulling bags out of the back of a sleek SUV. Must be the other occupants Hongjoong mentioned. He waves when the boy finally takes a break, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. Immediately, Jongho is bowled by how stunning the guy is, and he can’t even see him that well from here. 

The boy waves back and smiles but doesn’t make an attempt to come over. Jongho is about to offer his help when Yunho opens the door and calls for him. 

“Hey, so did Seonghwa kick you out already?” 

“Nah. I just needed a minute.” Jongho doesn’t like to lie. This doesn’t even feel like a white lie but he knows it is. Seonghwa’s aura practically shoved him out of that door in discomfort, but he won’t let his friends worry over that. He’ll deal with it on his own. “These stoves get awful hot, don’t they?”

“Ugh, god. We’re gonna have to crack a window. Between Mingi and I, it’ll be a goddamn sauna in here.”

“I’m sure Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s foggy windows are for the same reason.” He smirks, readily accepting a beer from Mingi as Yunho ushers him into the warmth. 

“Mmm, cute. Hope they fuck like rabbits so I don’t have to deal with it when we get back home for a minute.” Mingi and Yunho’s cabin has a slightly larger couch than Jongho’s, so he tucks himself into a corner of it while Mingi spreads himself on the other end. Their knees brush, so he knocks them together on purpose. “Are you guys gonna survive?”

“Oh, yeah. I just don’t know why he hates me so much.” Jongho says it so casually he’s sure they’ll glaze over it, but no such luck. 

“What?”

“Did he say that?”

“Hyung doesn’t hate you, Jongho.” Mingi shifts until Yunho can squeeze in beside him, smushing the three of them together like sausage in casing. 

“Well, I don’t think he likes me very much.” Jongho peels the label of his beer, nearly missing the look that passes between them. 

“Hyung is just nervous.” Yunho offers. It feels like a lie. 

“You don’t have to say anything, hyungs. It’s not the end of the world.” 

“He’ll come around. Just give him some time, Jongho.” Mingi snuggles into his neck, too warm and too close with Yunho next to them. Yunho just smiles at the show of affection, so Jongho allows it. 

“If you say so.”

“You’re welcome here if not.” 

He wrinkles his nose at that. “No, thank you. I’d rather not spend my time watching you guys do gross things to each other.”

“Whatever, be like that. Wooyoung would break down this damn door to see it.” Mingi huffs, feigning offense, baiting him into agreeing. 

“Wooyoung would watch anyone have sex, I think. I’m pretty sure he’s already been invited in with Yeo and San.” 

“Okay wait, that might be kind of hot-”

Jongho tunes out the excited chatter over a hypothetical fivesome between the 99 liners of their group, to which Jongho is actually grateful to be left out of. 

It’s not that he  _ wouldn’t.  _ It’s just that he hasn’t gone further than making out with Wooyoung at the club a few months ago in...well, years. And that’s because he felt comfortable with Wooyoung. If you can shower confidently with your friends, you should be able to makeout with them too, right? 

Jongho doesn’t know how to date men. He doesn’t know how to date at all anymore, actually. He’s forgotten the nuances of getting to know someone in that context; holding a stranger’s hand feels as far away as Seonghwa does. He has no problem experimenting with his friends because they know more than he does and he trusts them. He  _ loves  _ them. He just wouldn’t necessarily want to put any of their dicks in his mouth. 

Probably. 

His mind goes there sometimes, but he assumes everyone else’s mind does, too. It’s normal to occasionally imagine your friends while you jack off, isn’t it? Woo is often the star, mostly because he’s felt Jongho up enough times that Jongho can tell his hands apart from everyone else’s. It makes it easier to picture him rather than a faceless stranger. Sometimes it’s Mingi, sometimes it’s Yeosang. Exactly one time it was Seonghwa. 

That one kinda freaked him out. 

He’d been in the shower after a workout, thighs singing with the delightful burn, and he’d been exhausted but insufferably turned on for no reason at all. He let the water carry his hand down his body, stopping just shy of his hardening cock to slip around his sculpted v-line. He didn’t normally tease himself like this, drawing it out for his own pleasure. He imagined someone, anyone, down on their knees for him there, mouth open and inviting him in. How it would feel to have them gently take him in their mouth while he washed their hair, ensuring they didn’t get soap in their eyes while they worked him up. He closed his eyes to really get the picture, trying to imagine just the top of a head, and at first it seemed like he was doing a great job crafting an imaginary person for his fantasy. But then warm, wide brown eyes met his own and he nearly fell on his ass, taking a sudden step backwards out of the stream of water. 

He could barely look anyone in the eye at lunch the next day. 

“-wonder if they’re cool.”

“Yeah, Jongho was waving to one of them earlier. We should see what the others want to do tonight. Maybe we can build a fire and meet them.”

“Huh?” Jongho feels a tap on his shoulder and is greeted with two owlish eyes, curious and prying into whatever dreamland he drifted off to. 

“Whatcha think about trying to get the other lovebirds to be attached at the dick  _ later  _ so we can go make friends with the neighbors?” Yunho is cheerful when he asks, but Mingi is studying him a bit too closely. Like he could read his mind. 

If Mingi had the power to read minds, Jongho wouldn’t be surprised, but he would be absolutely terrified. Mingi shouldn’t have that power.

“Anything to break up some sin.” Jongho claps his hands together once to get the blood back in them and the party moving. Wouldn’t be the first time he walked in on any of them, though he’d prefer not to see it, but he’s prepared nonetheless. The taller blonde boy had intrigued him earlier, he’d like to see who he brought with him. 

“I call dibs on hyung’s room.” 

“Literally what the  _ fuck,  _ Mingi,  _ I  _ wanted to do that. He’s making me sleep with Seonghwa.”

“Ugh, fine. I  _ guess  _ we’ll take San. He’ll just tell us to stay and watch the show, anyway.” 

“Can we?”

  
  
  


⛄

  
  


The blonde boy’s name is Hyunjin and he is single. Jongho learns this within the first three minutes they arrive at the communal fire pit. Hyunjin and his friends are already stoking a steadily burning fire, fighting over who gets to poke the embers versus rearrange the half burnt logs. He learns both Hyunjin’s name and his relationship status in the same sentence and from the same person, -a boy with the largest doe eyes and most pillowy cheeks he’s ever seen- Jisung, who is busy literally throwing marshmallows at him yelling, “Hyunjin just because we’re all getting dick tonight and  _ you aren’t  _ doesn’t mean you can do all the cool fire shit.”

So, it seems like they’ll all be great friends before the weekend’s over.

“Hi. I’m Jongho.”

“Hi, Jongho. Did you do something bad a few minutes ago? I heard your name get screamed really loud.”

“That’s just Hongjoong-hyung. I’m sure you’ll hear that at least a couple more times this weekend.” 

“Are you the token single one, too?” Hyunjin hands him a steel poker and gestures at one of the folding chairs they’d cleared snow off of. It still looks a little damp so Jongho just crouches, content to occasionally stab at a rolling log while he lets the heat from the fire blast his whole body. 

“You bet.” 

Hyunjin is much more handsome up close than he was from afar. He has strong but youthful features, the kind that make you feel watched in a shivery-goodness type way. He’s soft spoken, not unlike Jongho himself, until Jisung does something to piss him off, which is frequent. It’s fun to watch them lob insults back and forth like they’re in a grueling tennis match, it reminds him of Wooyoung and San. The more time he spends relaxing here and enjoying their company the less he thinks about what nightfall brings. His bones feel frozen, so he ends up sitting close to the edge and letting the flames wash him in warmth for longer than he means to. 

Everyone except Seonghwa comes at their leisure, introducing themselves to Jisung, Hyunjin, and Jisung’s partner Minho. They explain that two of their friends just arrived from Australia and are catching up on some sleep and the others did most of the work prepping their arrival, so they’ll be able to join later on. For now, Yeosang is helping Minho divvy out hotdogs and sharing the other group’s toasting utensils. 

They all get along like a house on fire, but Jongho feels Seonghwa’s absence more starkly than usual. It’s a strange feeling that he tries to shake off to no avail - with all seven of them laughing and meeting new friends, there’s a lingering cold spot where Seonghwa usually is. It just feels...off. Like a gear out of place, skipping in the chain. 

Hyunjin settles next to him with a pack of marshmallows, trading whenever his get too burnt and Jongho’s are just the right amount of burnt. They make small talk, learning the little things that build up a person’s life. As Hyunjin discusses his studies (architecture, which is entirely unfair. He’s gonna be a hot architect, what is Jongho supposed to do with that?), Jongho finds himself drifting off even as he struggles to listen. He’s genuinely interested in Hyunjin, he  _ wants  _ to listen, but half of his brain is preoccupied wondering what Seonghwa could possibly be doing holed up in the cabin while his friends are out here, waiting for him. 

“So, you’re the only 00-liner in the group?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Jongho watches his marshmallow catch fire and absently twirls it around in the flames until it’s suitably crispy, and then hands his poker off to San. San likes the ashen ones, for whatever reason. 

“Must be kind of hard, not having another same age friend.” 

“It’s not so bad. My hyungs are pretty nice.” 

“They seem so. All cute couples, too.” Jongho turns his head to see who Hyunjin is smiling softly at, melting a bit himself as he watches Mingi deposit a browned marshmallow into Yunho’s mouth with his fingers, eyes tracking the way Yunho’s tongue licks sticky remnants off of his bottom lip. 

“They’re sickening, you mean.” And when Hyunjin shakes his head in response, the orange glow casted from the fire dancing with mirth in his eyes, Jongho knows he doesn’t mean it either. 

He’s never seen a love like the kind all of his friends share. He’s never tasted that for himself and at this point, he may never. He’s not really sure if that bothers him anymore. 

“Felix and Chan are like that, especially when they come back from the homeland. Trying to get their attention is like breaking a glass and trying to count all the little pieces. It’s impossible.” Hyunjin’s lips quirk like he’s acknowledging an inside joke Jongho isn’t privy to, but it’s kind of cute. “Well, actually, it’s not. You just have to be Jisung.”

“Why’s that?”

“He follows them everywhere. A whole ass Aussie-boo; I’m almost one hundred percent sure he coined that term. Give him the chance and he’ll Ursula the fuck out of Felix for his voice.” Jongho doesn’t really get it, but he laughs along like he does. Sweat beads along his hairline from the rising fire, full strength with at least a two foot flame clearance and so bright he can hardly see Jisung over the top of it. “He’s a fool.” The fondness in Hyunjin’s voice cancels out the nasty look he tosses at the other across the way, animatedly talking with Hongjoong and a shorter man with pretty lavender hair whose name Jongho doesn’t remember. 

“How long have you all known each other?” Jongho adds another marshmallow for Yeosang to his poker and crosses it over Hyunjin’s, a reminder to move it soon. 

“Me and Jisung? Forever. Hate him just as long, too.” Jongho snorts, a call to Hyunjin’s obvious bluff. “The others too, mostly. Chan and Felix moved to Korea, mmm, I wanna say four years ago. Chan met Changbin and Jisung first, but I don’t remember how. Felix met Minho at a dance competition and damn near busted his ass just to get his number. Jisung kinda called him first, though.” 

“Aren’t Chan and Felix together?”

“They weren’t always.” It sounds like a sore spot for him, the way his tone shifts into something bittersweet. “No one here has been single for a while, though. Except me I guess, and Innie. But he’s a baby still.”

“Oh really? How come?”

“I could ask you the same.” Hyunjin offers him a too burnt marshmallow that he accepts, comfortable enough to open his mouth and calmly await Hyunjin to feed him while he concentrates on not burning his own.

Hyunjin hesitates, eyes widened to the size of substantial dinner plates, before he carefully blows on the marshmallow himself and pops it off the end. It does not escape Jongho that Hyunjin watches the marshmallow disappear into his mouth. Jongho’s not really sure where the sudden burst of confidence came from; could be the tail-end of his fourth beer...how pretty Hyunjin’s side profile is framed by firelight...the knowledge that they are alone together surrounded by couples. 

“I don’t know,” He chews for a moment, swiping a thumb in the corner of his mouth to clean off melted marshmallow, “No one’s interested.” And yet, Hyunjin’s gaze dropped the second Jongho touched his own lip. 

A private thrill shoots up his spine, butterflies waking up from a deep slumber to go play in his ribcage again. When Hyunjin’s eyes slide back up to his, they’re playful,  _ intentional. _ Hyunjin’s shoulders brush his as he bends forward to retrieve his perfectly roasted marshmallow and he intends on keeping this one, maybe attempting to feed Hyunj-

“Hyung! You came!” Wooyoung says it loud enough to wake the birds in the trees. The chatter around the fire doesn’t stop, but it slows and quiets as Seonghwa approaches. Jongho turns and sees from his expression clearly that whatever Seonghwa had been up to in their cabin calmed him significantly, even if he looks a bit reluctant to join the rambunctious group of newcomers. 

Good. One less thing to worry about when he goes to bed tonight. 

Seonghwa immediately drifts to Wooyoung - the expert icebreaker of the group - and fuses himself to his side, settling like a nestling bird. He loops a hand through Wooyoung’s arm and is promptly paraded around to meet everyone, doing not much more than bowing and introducing himself while Wooyoung rambles on excitedly. Jongho does this when he’s forced into new social situations, too. He seeks out the extroverted abandon Wooyoung charms people with and hangs onto it, hoping some of it will eventually leak into him. 

It doesn’t, but Wooyoung talks enough for both of them. 

He watches for a moment as Seonghwa politely chats with Minho; the way his eyes are lidded from the smoke of the fire and his smile genuine, he seems invested in whatever Minho’s saying, and Jongho isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol catching up to him or the fact that Hyunjin is sitting  _ much _ closer now but a rolling undercurrent of jealousy washes over him. 

It starts in his forearms, the veins protruding just a bit under the layers he’s bundled in. He can feel it. The wave rises up his muscles until it dips down to his chest, swelling until he feels like a balloon stretching around helium.

Seonghwa’s eyes slide past Minho’s silhouette and, despite the smoke clogging his visibility, Jongho manages to catch Seonghwa’s gaze for a brief moment. 

“He’s handsome.” Hyunjin taps his knee and all the noise around him filters through again.  _ God, what the fuck was that?  _ The wave passes as though it never came at all. The only evidence he has of it is a slighted feeling, a disorientation from all of his senses honing in on something and then being shaken back to reality. 

It’s too overwhelming. 

“He is.” Jongho does not lie because it is true, Seonghwa is impressively handsome. Hyunjin and Seonghwa could walk runways and land on Vogue covers if they wanted to. His next task, however,  _ is  _ to lie his way out of sitting here and discussing Seonghwa’s attractiveness.

How does one acceptably duck out of conversation without offending someone, or ruining their chances of hooking up with them? 

“Will you excuse me for a second? I’m just gonna run to the bathroom.” He looks closely at Hyunjin’s expression to make sure he isn’t upset and when he finds nothing suspicious, he gently pats Hyunjin’s knee and goes to stand. 

Which is the precise moment it dawns on Wooyoung he’s yet to introduce Seonghwa to Hyunjin. And goodness, if that doesn’t light the fire under Jongho’s ass to  _ move. _

“Hyunjinnie! This is Seonghwa-hyung. He’s our elegant catboy, our most distinguished hyung, and he also happens to be-hey, where are you going?” 

Who was he kidding, thinking he could sneak his way out of forcefully conversing with Wooyoung around. 

“Uh...the bathroom?” All three sets of eyes are on him but only one feels calculating. The heat of the fire is suddenly unbearable to stand by, burning through his jacket and jeans. 

“Oh, well, why don’t you take Hyunjin with you? You know, as a walking buddy.” Wooyoung’s grin is sleazy and Jongho decides that’s enough of that, tonight. “It’s dark out now and there might be bears or-” 

“No.” He really doesn’t control his tone very well. He didn’t mean it to sound so stern, he really didn’t. It’s just that the smoke is filling up his lungs and constricting his throat and he can’t take much more tonight. Jongho can’t stand the look on Wooyoung’s face, so he steps around the pile of pokers and mumbles an apology under his breath. He thinks Hyunjin asks him to wait, but Wooyoung recovers quickly and launches into a story about the time Seonghwa was stopped and scouted on the street for an idol group, and oh, Hyunjin hasn’t? That’s crazy, he’s so  _ gorgeous- _

The walk back to his cabin is not far, but it’s enough that when he arrives, the laughter carries more like a lilting tune rather than a booming song. The air is colder and crisper away from the fire and he takes in large, deep breaths of it in appreciation. 

He doesn’t want to appear a wanderer too much, but without all the commotion, he can see the stars for miles here, so he follows the path a bit more to the overlook where he can see into the valley. Between the two peaks, the city sparkles with moving cars and building lights that shimmer from this high up. The occasional beam of headlights rounds hairpin curves up the mountain, flashing and disappearing where Jongho can’t track them. It’s really a sight to behold, a rarity when your bedroom view is just the cement walls of the building next to yours, and Jongho manages to forget why he’d been so uncomfortable in the first place. 

How could he be despaired in such a beautiful place? 

He doesn’t know many constellations, but he cranes his neck and tries to map the ones he recognizes. It’s been a long time since he’s seen the night sky like this; he’s blown away by how dense the stars are, packed and looming over him in brilliance and dullness alike. 

Someone in college once told him that humans are made from stardust and he laughed in their face. At the time, it seemed like such a cliche thing to say; just a flimsy and romantic notion to explain away the human existence. Now, he wishes that were true and the atoms in his body that belong to the sky couldn’t wait to go back home. 

He lets the cold sink into the fabric of his clothes as he connects burning dots in the sky until his neck hurts from looking up too long and his skin feels frostbitten. It isn’t (he hopes), but the passage of time is surely beyond a trip to the bathroom. He hopes no one is upset with him. 

Wooyoung will understand. He always does. 

Jongho pulls his phone out and checks the time, noting that he has no signal so he can’t text his way out of returning to the fire, and decides it’s getting too late and too chilly anyway. He will go bid his goodnights and head to bed. 

Hopefully Seonghwa stays out longer to make up for isolating himself most of the night. 

He decides to watch one more car make its way down the mountain because the driver seems leisurely, taking their time and executing the turns with ease unlike some of the others he’d seen. He can’t tell what kind of car it is from here, but he waits for the wink of lights after each pass as they get lower into the valley.

Curious, that he is aware of their existence but they are oblivious of him, observing their trek through the darkened forests and dangerous drop offs with such interest. Jongho imagines they are alone in the car with a singular window cracked, listening to the kind of music that makes you feel alive when the night falls and all you have is yourself and the painted lines on asphalt. He hopes they are going somewhere nice or have no destination at all. Those are the best kinds of drives. If he lived near the mountains, he would do that, too. He would turn up the volume as loud as it can go as he ascended into the trees and sing, let whatever mysterious creatures that wake when the sun sleeps hear him belt out all he’s feeling. 

It’s comforting to imagine that. 

Jongho doesn’t understand why he feels such an intense desire to be so alone when it doesn’t actually feel all that great to be lonely. 

Once the driver disappears beyond his view of the valley, Jongho lets the cold carry him back to the warmth of the fire where he finds Felix and Chan have finally made an appearance and are recounting a fascinating tale full of gesticulating and accents to the ones still standing. That is to say, there aren’t many. A quick headcount gives him about six people total, three of which are Hongjoong, Mingi, and Seonghwa. Hyunjin has acquired logs to sit on rather than the dry patch he and Jongho found and he looks cozy there, bundled under a blanket and sporting a knit cap with a pompom at the top of it. 

Jongho thinks it’s unfair how gorgeous someone can look when they’re buried in winter gear and freezing their ass off. 

Hyunjin’s eyes crinkle when he sees Jongho and he pats the log next to him, clearly an invitation to sit. Jongho goes to him first to say goodnight. 

“Ah, it’s not even that late, don’t be so old.” Hyunjin teases, though he covers his mouth to yawn as he stands to give Jongho an awkward one-armed hug. “See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” He smiles as Hyunjin lets him go and immediately sits back down, scooting closer to the fire. It’s not as strong as it was but it’s still kicking off heat and Jongho lets himself thaw for a minute quietly beside Hyunjin before waving to the rest and heading back to the cabin. 

  
  
  


Jongho is not one for routine unless it’s his workout plan, but he still feels a bit thrown off as he enters the cabin and sighs into the warmth, unsure of how to get ready for bed in an unfamiliar place. 

Does he take the couch? He stands in the entryway for a moment, confused as to whether he should prepare the couch or shower and wait for Seonghwa to come tell him what to do. One look at the bed, pristine and calling to him like a siren as his exhaustion catches up to him, and he longs to throw caution to the wind and deal with the consequences (if there even are any) later. 

But. 

But he can’t do that to Seonghwa. He seemed so awkward after realizing they’d have to room together, and damn near shell shocked when he discovered the whole ‘one bed’ situation. 

So, like the good friend he is, he goes looking for an extra set of sheets to cover the couch with. He finds a white cotton oversheet in the bathroom cabinet and drapes it over the cushions, tucking it into the corners so it doesn’t pull if he moves in his sleep. The bed has a duvet, a comforter, a thin blanket, and a top sheet so he strips the bed and takes the thin blanket and duvet for himself. Seonghwa can’t complain if he leaves him the comfiest of the stack. 

He’s too worn out from such a long day to shower, so he undresses and throws on sweatpants and an old college varsity shirt and tries very hard to settle into his makeshift bed. 

It’s not comfortable, but it does the job well enough when he props a leg on the back of the couch and tosses an arm over his face. Jongho drifts off thinking about that car and what it would feel like to drive it himself. Maybe he’d pull over when the road widens out so he can get out and touch the wall of rock, run his fingers along something ancient and still so full of life, standing the test of time and weather and humanity. 

  
  
  
  
  


Someone shakes him awake and he is  _ hot,  _ shirt clinging to him from cooling sweat on his neck and back.

“What are you doing? Come to bed.” And he is too tired to move but the heat from the stove is overwhelming in the same way the fire had been. An icy palm wraps around his wrist and tugs but he whines until it stops trying to move him. “Come on, Jongie, I’m not letting you sleep there.” The voice belongs to Seonghwa, he knows that, but it doesn’t register in the haze of his drowsiness. 

Seonghwa’s hand feels good against his overheated skin though, so the next time he pulls, Jongho follows the motion and sits up blearily. His first instinct once Seonghwa lets go is to rip off his shirt. Clammy and uncomfortable, the dry air soothes his bare skin and he sighs in relief. 

“Hyung?” 

“Come on.” Seonghwa offers his hand and Jongho feels for it blindly, dizzy and lolling dangerously close to falling back asleep sitting up. If he stumbles getting up from the couch, Seonghwa seems to catch him effortlessly.

Seonghwa helps him into the bed and Jongho nearly yelps when cold sheets shock his system, lacking body heat to keep them warm. Seonghwa must have just come in from the fire. He hushes Jongho, rolling him onto his side so he can place some hand warmers under the sheets. He pushes Jongho back into place so he can tuck him in again and only when he is satisfied that Jongho is comfortable, he rounds the bed to slide in. 

He is careful not to touch Jongho, but body heat radiates from him the moment he drifts closer. Somewhere in Jongho’s mind, he’s aware that they’re closer to each other than their respective edges, but as long as Seonghwa’s presence keeps him comfortably warm he can’t complain. 

“Goodnight, Jongie.” Seonghwa says after a while, to which Jongho slurs some kind of response that might have been a mixture between “okay” and “you too.” He falls asleep to the sound of Seonghwa breathing out a quiet laugh next to him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's still winter i'm not that late

The sky is big and wide and beautiful, the brightest blue with sparing white fluffy clouds decorating it, hanging suspended in the air like a child’s mobile. Jongho tries to make shapes with them, carving out puppy tails and handles of mugs with just his eyesight. It’s centering, it’s draining all the emotion toiling in his gut as he purposefully blocks out the giggles of his friends and the  _ whooshing  _ of boards zooming past him. 

He’d woken up with an uncomfortable feeling, like his skin is simply being worn as a coat rather than an inseparable part of him. It’s like a dullness in the back of his brain; not an itch, not a pain, just a scrambled spot of mess vibrating in his skull, tugging at something in his chest. The fuzziness gets louder with every call of his friends, every success cry when someone manages to slide more than twenty feet without falling. 

This morning he’d woken up alone, Seonghwa’s side of the bed devoid of body warmth and neatly made as though he’d never slept beside Jongho at all. 

That’s the first string knotting together in his head, twisting and tying like a rubber band ball, expanding beyond what the elastic allows. It bothered him and he didn’t know  _ why _ , which made it all worse somehow. 

And then San had broken into his cabin and flung himself on top of Jongho, digging his heavy head into Jongho’s tummy, whining that Jongho had slept too long and that he’d miss the last few slices of bacon if he didn’t get up now. 

And Jongho had sighed, running his fingers once through San’s shiny black hair, enjoying the comfort of his friend in the still morning while another band slipped over the growing ball in his head. 

He’d been lured out on the promise of extra strong, piping hot coffee straight from the neat machine Hyunjin’s crew brought with them, and indeed it was great coffee for a cold morning. 

Seonghwa seemed to avoid him, busying himself with Wooyoung and then taking it upon himself to help with packing everything up and preparing their snowboards. Hyunjin sat beside Jongho and asked about their plans for the day, but Jongho wasn’t feeling very talkative, and Jisung kept his attention by consistently complaining until a bickering match turned into a (playful and somehow, also not) physical one. Nothing a swift snowball to the face couldn’t fix. 

Jongho woke up tired this morning.

So, that’s how he ends up starfished off to the side of a bunny hill, utterly uncaring of the snow melting into his padding, gazing into the clouds like they are his saving grace. The rubber band ball is stretching thin and precariously, enough that the feeling spreads into his chest and through his fingertips.

The clouds don’t answer when he mouths their shapes, reconstructing their edges into something identifiable. 

Wooyoung does though. 

“Get up, you’re gonna get crushed.” He says, even as he tosses himself backwards into the snow beside Jongho. He shifts a little like he’s going to make snow angels, but decides against it at the last minute, and places his head against Jongho’s shoulder to snuggle up. 

“No.” 

“You’re very somber today, what’s that all about? Did something happen with Seonghwa-hyung last night?” He knows Wooyoung is prying because he’s concerned, but Jongho’s defensive mode automatically whirs to life and he has to physically swallow back a remark. 

_ Why are they all so fucking weird about this?  _

“No, we slept fine.” Well, he did. He isn’t sure about Seonghwa because he woke up alone. Another band tightens around the swollen ball in his brain. He hates the analogy, but it’s the only thing that works for what he’s feeling.

Wooyoung hums in response, choosing for once to not annoy the ever-loving fuck out of Jongho. Instead he immediately launches into a conspiracy about clouds being manufactured by the government, to which Jongho listens and does not bother responding to. 

To his right, Yunho is helping Mingi practice falling and learning how to accept it rather than flail aimlessly. Mingi’s been struggling all morning and as soon as he gets more than a few feet, Yunho lightly pushes him into a bank playfully, giggling at Mingi’s undignified, panicked shrieks. 

It’s cute. They’re always so cute. The sound grates at him. 

“Do you think clouds are autonomous? Like, what if they make their own shapes just for people to interpret, you know? That one looks like a balloon animal.”

“Woo, what the fuck are you talking about?” Jongho can’t see Wooyoung’s face because he can’t move well underneath all of his gear, but he imagines Wooyoung grinning as he stares up at the sky with him. The sun blazes despite not being able to feel the heat, high and just slight of directly above them. He estimates it’s about one in the afternoon which would put them at close to three hours at the resort. 

He’s over it. 

“Don’t you know some people say the government manufactures the clouds so we don’t realize we’re just in some really thorough simulation?”

He did know that, actually. 

“Well, I don’t think so. I think the clouds have thoughts of their own and they look down on us and see all the things we have, so they replicate those things for us to look at in the sky. So we pay attention to them. Right? Because, they always pay attention to us.”

Jongho likes when Wooyoung decides to go off on his infamous tangents like this because it’s always something wholeheartedly innocent, meaning hiding underneath all the surface little one-liners he throws out just to keep the listener curious. 

In this case, Jongho could listen to Wooyoung talk about the clouds as they stare at them forever, even if the majority of his back is numb.

“I hate when there aren’t clouds in the sky, don’t you?”

“Mhm.”

“But, I  _ really  _ like when the clouds are gray and blanket the whole thing, you know? Like when there’s a bit of sun shining through, it feels really special on a dreary day to have that little bit of light.”

Jongho feels increasingly lucky that Wooyoung is who Wooyoung is.

“Maybe aliens control the clouds, Jongho. And that’s how they communicate with us.”

“Oh, do you really think so?” And this time, when he glances over at Wooyoung, he’s already looking at Jongho with a delighted sparkle in his eyes. 

“No, I just wanted a reaction out of you.” 

“What are you two idiots doing? You’re in the way-” Jongho doesn’t bother glancing over as Hongjoong passes them by, bringing with him a spray of ice crystals that shower them both. They’re not in the middle of anything, Hongjoong purposefully made his way over here so he could get their attention, but it still amuses Jongho when he hears an  _ oof  _ followed by the thud of his body hitting snow. 

“Shut up, fucking show off. We’re talking about the sky balloons.” Wooyoung loops an arm through Jongho’s and drags him to sit up with him. Hongjoong splays out across from them, board buried into the snow, beanie flung off to the side so his pretty blue hair spreads out in the snow. Jongho likes the contrast of the shiny deep blue against the stark white of the ground. 

“I’m not a show off! You’re the show off! You literally shoved me so hard I tumbled halfway down the mountain earlier!”

“Lying is unbecoming. I barely touched you.” 

Hongjoong shakes himself off and sticks his tongue out at Wooyoung, an undeniable challenge to Woo’s blatant brush-off. And when he smiles blindingly and winks at Jongho, he thinks offhand that Hongjoong’s teeth are so pretty, no wonder Woo was so drawn to him. 

“I’m pretty sure I have a bruise from how hard you punched me. Jongho, get him.” Hongjoong flips an indifferent hand at Wooyoung, who squawks as though he is genuinely offended, and Hongjoong barely has a chance to stand before Wooyoung swiftly detaches himself from Jongho and launches himself, bringing them both back down into the bank. The impact distributes snow into the air, sparkling flakes shooting around them and catching the sunlight while they wrestle. Jongho watches them with fondness, trying to swallow down the vines of envy crawling up his throat. 

What is this? Why is he feeling so hostile today? 

He can hear a kiss or two being exchanged, a sweet sound of appreciation shared between the two of them like it’s easy. Thoughtless. Instinctual. 

Another elastic. He’s beginning to think the limit is closer than anticipated. 

“Wow! Look at hyung!” Jongho tears his gaze away from the lovers and turns to the sound of Mingi’s awestruck voice, pointing a ways up the mountain on the moderate trail. Jongho can’t see anything significant from where he is, but there’s only one hyung missing from their general area, and that is concluded the second Seonghwa’s black and red ski jacket streaks out from towering pine trees. 

“ _ He’s so fast!” _

_ “Is he gonna make that jump?”  _

He’s in an optimal position to watch Seonghwa’s descent, so vaguely, he notes the others are drifting closer to him while they chatter excitedly. Their murmurs sound far away, though; his focus is entirely on the way Seonghwa’s body commands the snow underneath of him, the slight bend of his torso and how he expertly shifts his weight to sway side to side. He’s putting on a performance whether he realizes it or not and Jongho is absolutely captivated by him. His moves are sleek and methodical and yet, there’s a bit of magic to him, like he’s in love with the way his body connects to the mountain. It’s like when he dances, Seonghwa absorbs energy and blends it into himself until he’s satisfied with how it fits him. That’s the way the snow parts for him.

It’s hard for Jongho to swallow past the tangle of thread in his throat. 

Seonghwa finishes with a flair, kicking up the edge of his board so he skids to a stop smoothly, creating a snow spray behind him that falls like slow rain. Jongho wishes he were closer so he could see the icy bits clung to the tips of his hair, in his eyebrows and ridiculously long lashes. Seonghwa takes off his helmet and even from this distance, Jongho thinks he’s unfairly handsome. It sticks to his forehead with cold sweat and covers his eyes until he brushes it away in a motion the others wolf whistle at.

_ God damn it.  _

Jongho’s ears ring with his friend’s cheers. 

“Hot girl shit!” Wooyoung pipes up from where he’s kneeling over Hongjoong, straddling his hips and craning his neck to see Seonghwa. 

“Hyung you’re amazing!” Mingi shouts to him, jumping up and down and waving his obnoxiously long arms. As if any of them could miss Mingi’s large frame desperately trying to get their attention. 

“We are but fools in his presence.” 

“Stop treating hyung like some kind of prized animal, you’ll inflate his ego.”

“Impossible, he’s already off in the clouds somewhere.”

“He can’t hear us anyway.” 

“Don’t birds have echosonic hearing or something?” 

“No, that’s dolphins.”

Jongho has no idea who is talking, all the voices sound both pronounced and meshed together. The exhaustion creeping under his skin all day seizes him finally, luring him to be swept under the tide and retreat into himself. He wants to listen.

“Jongho? You wanna go get hot chocolate at the lounge? They have a toppings bar with fruits and cream.” Someone’s tugging at his elbow and their warmth feels nice, so he lets it happen. He’s experiencing a mood drop so significant it puzzles him how he’s even supposed to react but he attempts to anyway.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He doesn’t really move though. Ahead, Seonghwa has caught sight of them and waves back in fashion similar to Mingi, hopping up and down as well as he can attached to his board with a big smile and wild helmet hair.  _ Why doesn’t he like me? _

“Come on.” He registers Yeosang carefully leading him away from the boisterous group now screaming for Seonghwa to come over and is silently thankful. He’s not sure he could handle an amped Seonghwa right now.

The noise in his head dies down the farther they get away from their friends, replacing the chatter with the crunching of snow and a quiet concentration not to slip and fall on patches of packed ice. The heaviness subsides with Yeosang’s tranquil presence to keep him company and chase away the bad things festering in his mind. 

They haven’t seen much of the lounge yet -Hongjoong checked them in and they’d brought their own gear so they’d mostly just congregated around the foot of the bunny hill and watched others in awe- but the moment they step foot inside of the resting area, Jongho feels a bit of him thaw out. It’s homely but in a supremely fancy design; everything is polished cherry wood and comfortable seating, large bay windows one can sit in to watch the skiers and boarders come down, a warm lighting chandelier hanging low above sets of booths and bar tables. Yeosang leads him to an empty patchwork couch that doesn’t quite fit the rest of the room but he sinks in with a sigh of appreciation regardless. The whole place smells like freshly baked cinnamon apples and coffee and Jongho could live right here, melted into this couch cushion, gazing out at the beautiful snow covered hills all day and night. 

Yeosang walks away without a word, which usually means he’s going to come back with something he knows Jongho will love, and inevitably use it to pry whatever’s hiding in Jongho’s head to come out so he can see it all and analyze it. It’s his method. Mingi smothers, Wooyoung’s all gentle bullying and persuasion, Hongjoong distracts him, but Yeosang is something special; he investigates stoicly and then ends all of Jongho’s suffering with a simple solution that he feels stupid for not thinking of himself.

It’s with this impending moment in mind that Jongho closes his eyes and allows himself to relax and enjoy the atmosphere while he has the chance. 

Seonghwa’s glide down the mountain appears behind his eyelids after a few moments of just breathing there, hands clasped over his stomach as he calms down. He recalls the way Seonghwa’s body angles to take on the path effortlessly, confident in his ability to react with speed and diligence. Jongho has solid form in almost every sport he plays and nothing touches the fluidity Seonghwa moves with. It’s almost like grace. The bubbling in his veins feels an awful lot like envy, mixing in with his blood and turning it as green as the Grinch.

But that feels wrong, too. He doesn’t know what to call what he’s feeling, isn’t sure if any word he comes up with will suffice. 

He opens his eyes to the ceiling, steep structure beams and sophisticated wood paneling erasing the vision of Seonghwa on the mountain. Jongho can appreciate a beautiful ceiling. The craftsmen must be proud. 

His dad worked on buildings like this. Every time they’d drive by somewhere his dad had done a job, he’d reach across the seat and point out the window to him.  _ “Your dad designed and built the infrastructure of that resort, buddy. Best crown-molding in town.”  _ It’s a nice memory, one he sinks into like hot coffee as he notes the delicate shaping of the window frames edges. At least it’s taken his mind off of Seonghwa.

Yeosang returns quietly, brandishing a hot chocolate topped with cream and strawberry halves so high he nearly spills it just transferring the mug over to Jongho. The heat pricks at his palms but he refuses to set the cup down, delighted in the scent of melted chocolate and how Yeosang seemed to know exactly how overzealously Jongho would fill his cup. His eyes are bigger than his stomach but the weight of something so comforting in his hand takes the edge off even more. 

“Thank you, hyung.” He balances the mug carefully in one hand so he can undo the velcro of his glove, eager to dip a strawberry into the drink and let it sit on his tongue. There’s a sharp spice to it that dulls the noise in his mind and he drinks appreciatively to help it flow through him and reach the colder spots.

Yeosang doesn’t respond save for a hum that could either be in reply or just a happy sigh into his own cup. They sit together comfortably and enter a period of waiting - who is going to break first? Usually, Yeosang will lead into advice by telling him an anecdote, which Jongho never minds because he loves listening to Yeosang talk, his voice is melodic and deep and has a soothing charm like honey in tea, but Jongho’s edges are frayed and he’s not sure if he can hold this one back for too much longer. 

“I’m okay,” he starts off confidently, reassuringly, god he hopes it sounds more stable than he feels. For motivation to continue, he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up a bit straighter. “I just needed a moment.” 

“So what’s going on with you and hyung?” Yeosang is wise to take a prolonged, noisy sip immediately after the words leave his lips, as though he is sure Jongho will get upset again. 

And his first instinct is to get defensive again, to clam up under the inquisition and form a protective shell around the realization beginning to bloom in his mind that he isn’t quite ready to examine. Definitely not ready for someone else to take a peep at, either.

But, he can’t snap at Yeosang. He just can’t. 

“Nothing.” Even to him it sounds sheepish, like a child caught sneaking a piece of candy before dinner.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me if something happened. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Yeosang approaches things in a way similar to Mingi and that feels familiar, like he doesn’t need to try as hard to be something he isn’t at the moment. He isn’t relentlessly talking like Wooyoung to fill the void of silence, he’s not gruffly avoiding the topic like Hongjoong does, and he isn’t actively trying to force-cuddle it out of him like Mingi does. 

He doesn’t mind talking to Yeosang, but he  _ does  _ mind the way he wants to indulge in the privacy of Yeosang, to spill all of his confusion. That’s not fair to Yeosang, especially not after he noticed Jongho’s discomfort so plainly and went about taking care of him as soon as he could.

The tangle of knots tied so securely in his brain loosens just enough.

“Last night, Seonghwa woke me up from the couch and took me to bed.” 

Yeosang’s slow blink tells Jongho more than words could. 

“There’s not more.” he adds, realizing Yeosang could be thinking that he meant Jongho and Seonghwa did more than sleep. He traces his thumb around a soft patch of the ceramic mug cooling in his palms, holding it closer to his face so he can hide the blush creeping into his cheeks. Jongho doesn’t want to be ridiculous like this, he really doesn’t. This, to anyone else, is a null and inexistent issue. 

Seonghwa was simply thinking of his comfort as his hyung. 

That’s all.

Jongho stares at a strawberry pillowed in cream and twirls the cup just to watch it dip below the surface of the chocolate. The cream turns brown and begins to dissipate into the drink. 

“And did you guys touch?” Jongho glances up from his drink, not knowing what to expect on Yeosang’s face. He sees only shuttered curiosity, like he wants to pry but knows better than to pressure Jongho.

It strikes him all at once that Yeosang would’ve done the same thing as Seonghwa last night. That, really,  _ any  _ of his hyungs would. And of course it’s not a big deal to them to let him sleep longer, to give him the rest of the bed to stretch out and enjoy his slumber in the morning while they go out to prepare breakfast.

It’s a normal thing. 

_ So why did it feel so different when Seonghwa did it?  _

“No, we didn’t touch in our sleep or anything. He tucked me in because the sheets were cold. That’s pretty much all I remember.” Jongho fiddles with the cup again just for something to do, the heat of it feeling rather taxing now that he’s talking about this with someone else. He’s been in his own head all day long overthinking, letting his imagination take over and spin the truth, making him see things in Seonghwa’s behavior that twist until it’s ugly and misshapen. 

“Okay, and did that make you feel uncomfortable?” Did it? The short answer is, no. Of course not. The opposite, maybe.

He shakes his head.

“Hmm. So, you slept okay?”

“Mhm. It was nice.” 

Yeosang is analyzing, that much Jongho can tell, so he allows himself to study the contents of his cup like it is the most interesting thing in the world. Most of the cream clings to the sides or has dissolved, and the strawberries are sunk to the bottom where he can’t see. 

He worries over what Yeosang can see about him right now. If he can see the knot and what it’s protecting, if he can pick it all apart and see it clear as day before Jongho can. 

“Do you want to switch rooms with us? You can stay with Sannie if you’d like. I’m sure you’re much warmer than I am at night and you know he likes to cuddle.”

Why do his hyungs always do that? Put him before themselves? 

“No, no. Please, I just got in my own head about it. I guess I just need to spend more time with hyung.” He wants to ask Yeosang why it felt so terrible to wake up alone. He desperately wants to unravel the knots in his head and look at the core, try to find the ends of each side and work them until they’re separate again. 

But that would involve asking Yeosang questions he’s not sure he can ask. That would involve finishing this exhausting dance around something he’s afraid to look at, afraid to prod until it cracks open and he’s forced to face the music. 

“Okay, but you’ll tell us if you need us, yeah?” Yeosang reaches forward to pat his knee, and then flicks the bottom of the mug. “Drink more. I put a travel size bottle of rum in that for you.” 

Ah the spice, that’s what it is. He does, draining the cup to just the dregs of bloated strawberries, and pops those in his mouth too. They absorbed a bit of the alcohol which is a nice sting on his tongue. He senses the conversation is complete and that Yeosang has collected something valuable from the conversation. 

And not for the first time today does he thank god for Jung Wooyoung for being as loud and interruptive as he is.

“Holy  _ shit  _ look at the chocolate bar!” The sliding door Yeosang and Jongho came through earlier opens with a squeak and rush of cold air, Wooyoung and the rest of the crew traipsing in snow and cold noses.

“Yeo, is the coffee any good?” San bumbles over with his board and drops it beside Yeosang’s side of the couch, dipping low to sniff at his drink and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Yeah!”

“Okay, I’ll be right back then. All good, Jongie?” San straightens up to flash him a grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle, like he’s not worried about Jongho at all. Just happy. 

“Hyung.” Jongho nods and returns the smile, hopes it comes through just as joyously as San’s. He’s not pretending anymore like he has been most of the day, it does feel like Yeosang has relieved a bit of the pressure built up in his bones even if they didn’t really talk about anything at all.

Hongjoong and most of the others amble over to drop their stuff off before they grab their drinks, chattering about as they come, and this time it doesn’t affect Jongho quite so much. He likes watching Yunho and Mingi team up on Hongjoong, tugging at the hairs on his nape and pinching the skin of his throat. Likes watching them bicker and play fight each other like this. Something bumps his leg and he looks down to see a snowboard there on the floor, a smooth and steady hand balancing it to lean against the couch. 

“Mind if I set this here?” He looks up and straight into Seonghwa’s eyes, warm and flushed with dying adrenaline, the kind of brown that changes color depending on the weather. Right now they’re sunny and welcoming and Jongho feels something in his chest kick at how close Seonghwa is, and how casual he seems about it. 

“Oh, sure, hyung!” He scoots over a little to give Seonghwa some space, who immediately throws himself into the couch and spreads his legs, getting comfortable. There’s noise at the back of Jongho’s brain, a vibration that feels a lot like earlier this morning but exponentially more intense. It doesn’t feel like an egg frying on low heat anymore.

“Agh, thanks. That was fun. Did you have fun, Jongie? I didn’t see you much yet today, sorry.” Seonghwa taps his knee as he talks, head leaned back into the cushion and his eyes closed. “But I saw you go down the hill! You picked it up so fast. It took me forever to be able to get down without falling at least once.”

Jongho knows Seonghwa’s talking to him. More than he has in like, at least a week. More candidly than he has probably ever. He can’t hear a fucking thing beyond the static eminating from his knee where the warmth of Seonghwa’s gloved hand bleeds through his pants.

“Hey, is that hot chocolate actually worth it? I wanna get some, but I’m so exhausted now that I’m sitting down.” 

“I’ll get you one.” His mouth speaks without consulting his mind and he almost flinches. He really needs to simplify their actions a bit; it’s nothing but getting a hot drink for a tired, cold friend. It should be easy. Like Yeosang pulling him aside easy. Like learning how to fall properly in the snow easy. Like Hongjoong and Wooyoung kissing in the snow easy. 

No, wait-

“Thanks, Jongho.” Seonghwa taps his knee once, twice, and then lets his head loll further into the couch. He’s wiped out, it’s the least Jongho can do. He watches Seonghwa’s eyelids flutter, his lashes wet with melted ice, and then go still as though he’s passed out right here. 

Okay, just get up and go get the drink. 

And, surprisingly, he does. 

He fills a cup at the machine and ponders over the topping station, wondering what, if anything, Seonghwa would like in his drink. He stands there for so long someone else quietly clears their throat and asks him to move aside so they can get to the whip cream, so he steps out of their way and continues staring at the table. Seonghwa seems like the type to enjoy ultra sweet things, and he’ll need the sugar rush after expending so much energy out on the mountain. When the person finishes their own drink and moves on to finger foods, Jongho steps forward and fixes a cup much like Yeosang made for him. 

He’s assuming here, but everyone likes cream and strawberries, right? 

When he returns, Seonghwa’s head is pillowed on Mingi’s shoulder, snoring softly with his mouth just the tiniest bit open. He stops and watches the slow rise of Seonghwa’s chest, the puffing of his cheek the longer it stays pressed into Mingi’s bony shoulder, and the envy comes crawling back but... _ different.  _ Mingi scrolls on his phone, wholly unbothered by the whole thing, and Jongho...

“Jongie?” Mingi breaks him out of his stare and at first it feels a bit dazed, and then the embarrassment kicks in. It doesn’t seem like anyone but Mingi noticed his pause, though Mingi gives him a puzzled look as Jongho stands there, frozen, gripping the cup as though his life depends on it.

“Yup, uh, I brought him this. Okay anyway, I’ll just-” And he sits. And places the cup on the table in front of Seonghwa. And then leans back carefully, trying not to jostle Seonghwa out of his light nap. Their thighs touch and Jongho tries very hard not to think about that.

“Hang on, now that you’re back I can run to the bathroom.” Mingi can sense the panic that floods Jongho immediately, he’s positive of that by the way he maneuvers Seonghwa’s face over to Jongho’s shoulder with a pitying look- Jongho holds his breath and waits for Seonghwa to wake up but he dozes on peacefully, nuzzling into Jongho’s shoulder.

He has no idea what’s going on with him. Jongho is hyper aware of Seonghwa’s breathing, of his perfectly sculpted cheekbone cushioned by the bit of muscle built around Jongho’s shoulder, of the way he’s slowly sliding more into Jongho’s side until they’re almost entirely pressed together.

Jongho reminds himself that it should look easy. He should look like Mingi did - nonplussed, gentle, in his own world. The others do this all the time with him. Pretend it’s Mingi. 

So, he does. He slips his phone out of his coat pocket and scrolls through it using the arm Seonghwa isn’t occupying, rearranging his layout and clicking on apps he doesn’t use much. 

The weather app says it’s 34 degrees and sunny with a possible snow storm later in the evening. No more than a few inches.

Nice. He can build another fire later. 

He picks a news app and scrolls without reading any of the articles, focused on hoping that his acting could pass for an Oscar worthy performance. It sure feels like one. 

Yunho launches into an animated story about how he broke the bridge of his nose once slamming into a heavy tree branch on the wrong side of a trail, so Jongho turns his phone face down on his thigh and listens. Yunho’s a great storyteller; his hands tell it, mapping out the path and the length of the branch that injured him, expressions exaggerated for dramatic effect and giggling through what seems like a really traumatic experience actually.

He loves his friends, he truly does. He’s missed them. He’s glad Mingi dragged him out of his hermit shell. 

The extra weight on his shoulder relaxes Jongho as he laughs at Yunho’s reenactment of his accident and he feels peaceful. At home here, with them. 

By the time he even notices Mingi’s returned but has chosen to take up residence on Wooyoung’s lap instead of next to him, the cream in Seonghwa’s cup has melted into the mixture and Jongho is leaning equally into Seonghwa, allowing himself to drift as his friends talk amongst themselves. 

Natural.  _ Easy.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  


⛄

  
  
  
  


“I have something I’ve been saving for a snowy night.” is all the warning Jongho gets before Seonghwa scares the shit out of him. A loud  _ pop!  _ followed by several pinging noises and the telltale hiss of champagne startles Jongho, burying his face in the well worn pages of his favorite book as he hunkers into the couch, using it as a shield against an incoming cork. It lands nowhere near him, but the anticipation still delivered a kick to his gut. 

“Jesus, hyung!” He peers over the back of the couch from under his book, placed like a tent atop his head. The sight must be amusing because it makes Seonghwa bite his lip to hold back his laughter, champagne running in rivets down his arm. It pools onto the floor as he stands there, trying very hard to appear like he hadn’t meant to disturb Jongho.

“Well, it didn’t hit you, did it?” He smirks, shaking the bottle triumphantly, like he has just successfully pranked Jongho and is happy about it. 

Jongho rolls his eyes and plops back down, trying to refocus again on the same passage he’s been reading for what feels like hours. His thoughts phase over the words, the content of every sentence gives him a new train of thought to bounce off of that has nothing to do with the book itself. It’s frustrating, but he can’t stop himself from trying to read, anyway. Reading helps clear his head usually, so he forces himself to move on to the dialogue in hopes he can find the groove again.

_ “‘Sleep well,’ She’d told me, taking care to fold the edges of the quilt just so under my clasped hands. ‘Dream of something beautiful.’ It was sincere, the tear ebbing in the corner of her eye, and I almost couldn’t bear her sorrowful voice as she bid me goodbye. She closed my eyes with a gentle touch and could not hear my silent plea to stay-” _

A shadow looms over him, blocking the only light he’d been using to see, and a flute half full of fizzing alcohol is offered to him by a pale hand. “Jongho, would you like some?” 

“What’s the occasion, hyung?” The book can wait, he supposes. No use trying to absorb words through osmosis. He sits up and takes the flute, balancing it delicately between his middle and ring fingers as he’s seen people do on television. He’s never had champagne before but he knows it’s more of a celebratory drink than anything else, so he waits to be told he’s missed Seonghwa’s birthday or he’s had a promotion at work he’s been hiding from everyone. 

But Seonghwa just looks at him with a devious glint in his eye, like it’s a secret shared between the two of them. From this angle, he’s lit up only by the orange cast of the fire again. Something about Seonghwa in firelight looks so...ethereal. 

_ Natural. Easy.  _

“No reason.” 

“Mmm, okay, weirdo.” Seonghwa seems to be waiting for some kind of reaction, so Jongho takes a sip. The bubbles attack his nose and burn his throat but he doesn’t really mind it. Seonghwa likes a bitter and dry type, the opposite of what Jongho expected. It kind of makes him glad Seonghwa had slept too long to try his drink at the lounge earlier. 

“Is it good?” 

He clicks his tongue a few times in his mouth to check the taste and doesn’t mind that part, he prefers drinks on the sharp side and this one feels less sweet, more biting. He hasn’t had enough champagne to compare it to anything and he doesn’t want to disappoint Seonghwa though, so he nods in approval. 

“Yeah, not bad. Burns a bit, but it’s got a good aftertaste.” 

“I like this brand. It’s the best on nights like this.” Seonghwa’s pleased smile tosses the alcohol in Jongho’s gut, so he drops his gaze back to the book and mumbles a quiet thank you. If he had to look at Seonghwa’s face casted in that golden glow any longer, his eyes would water. 

He pretends to scan the page to find where he left off until Seonghwa turns away from him back to the kitchen, and then lets out a sigh just for himself. He doesn’t like the way his view of Seonghwa keeps shifting, so fast he can hardly keep track of where it’s leading to. Maybe it’s that he’s painting him in a different light with each sight he’s given; just now, similar to last night, with the sunset wash of the fire...earlier, in the white of snow, with his helmet off and hair sticking to his damp face. 

Maybe it’s that a barrier seems to have fallen between them. Either way, it’s distracting.

They’d fallen asleep together, heads resting against one another, in the lounge on the couch while the others talked for a couple more hours, coming down from their long day at the resort. Wooyoung and Yunho wanted to do some night trails since dark falls so early in the winter, so the others had piled up around Jongho and Seonghwa and drifted off into their own naps as well for a while; at least, that’s what Mingi told Jongho when they’d been woken up by a barista and asked (politely) to return to their rooms for a nap or head out. And considering they didn’t have rooms at the resort to go to, they all went out to flag down the ski-puppies and drag them back to the van. 

After all that, Seonghwa had stuck closer to Jongho’s side than he had all day. Ever, actually. He’d taken the seat next to him in the back of the van quietly, as though it is something he’s always done, and offered Jongho an extra jacket to ball up against the window so he could lay his head there without getting cold from the frozen glass.

At the campground, they’d all separated into their cabins to relax before dinner time, that of which Seonghwa was partly to be in charge of, so Jongho took his book to the couch and let himself wander into the world of another while listening to Seonghwa preparing ingredients. Occasionally, he brought him the best part of a raw vegetable to eat, or bits of kimchi that he’d finished cooking and needed taste tested. The calming rhythm of Seonghwa chopping vegetables to add to stew combined with the familiar aroma of spicy soup and the gentle crackling of the wood in the fire lulled Jongho into his book until one spare line caught his attention and took him off track.

_ “To be loved a great much is to experience a woe worthy of everything. I would rather rest uneasy forever than experience the feeling of a heart losing care of me again.”  _

To be loved a great much is to experience a woe worthy of everything. 

Curious, that line. Is this what he is surrounded by, the love of his friends? Sometimes he feels it so intensely it constricts in his gut, like he is unworthy of it. Mingi once told him he was resistant to care that he felt was extraneous - touching, holding, gifting, listening, all things Jongho loves and yet, the chemicals in his brain prevent him from taking part in too often. It all feels damaged to him, like there is a stark awkwardness in his fingers when he tries to reciprocate. The others coddle him to break him of it, and he genuinely loves it when they touch him like he’s  _ someone’s,  _ but he knows he’s not. He knows it’s just a touch, just a kiss, just a hand where he needs it at the moment. That’s probably why he felt so  _ off  _ most of the day; he’d experienced affection he isn’t used to from a person who doesn’t dole it out to him and then it was almost like it never happened at all.

Reminded him of Wooyoung that night, creeping up to him like he was  _ his  _ while Hongjoong watched from the bar. He’d tossed his arms around Jongho’s neck and locked them so he couldn’t go anywhere, pressing a warm nose to the underside of his jaw and slowly dragging against skin until he reached Jongho’s ear. It was a little more than what Jongho was used to receiving, but one look at Hongjoong reassured him instantly, and he let Wooyoung bite at his earrings, the tip of his tongue tracing the fold of his ear. 

Seonghwa had watched them, too. He’d been a bit hazy at the time, clouded with alcohol and hormones, but he remembers the look on his face clear as day. Beguiled, sparkling eyes, teeth shining in a wicked smile. Jongho closed his eyes for a second too long, basked in the attention and the way Wooyoung’s mouth latched to his neck, and then it was all gone. Hongjoong struck up a conversation that pulled Seonghwa’s gaze from him, and Wooyoung had pulled back with a laugh like a fox, and thanked him for the dance before disappearing into the crowd. 

It made him wonder if Seonghwa ever thought about him like that.

The memory had snapped him out of his endless thoughts, a violent chill that made him curl up into himself. It forced him to read word by word, pausing after each space in the text so he could force himself to digest and continue on in an effort to wipe his mind from the mess. It was a fruitless endeavor. 

And then Seonghwa offered him champagne on a blustery night, in the middle of his dinner preparations, and he felt nice. Nicer than he has in months. 

Seonghwa has since gone back to cooking, stirring in veggies and meat, taking small sips from his glass whenever he gets a restful moment. Jongho sets his book aside and watches bubbles fizz to the surface of his glass and wink out of existence. The color is beautiful, a light, liquid gold accentuated whenever he holds it in front of the fire. 

“Aren’t people supposed to drink hot beverages on snowy nights, hyung?” Jongho waits for the sound of a pepper grinder to stop before he asks.

“Maybe. Doesn’t that seem a bit cliche to you?”

“No, more logical than anything. Bourbon and spiced rum are popular in the winter for a reason.”

“Do I seem like a logical being to you?” His voice colors in amusement as he sprinkles seasoning into the stew and covers it, turning the heat down so he can lean back against the sink and wipe his hands on a towel. The gesture is careless, an everyday occurrence to anyone who cooks. Jongho finds he has the same habit while cooking, propping himself against the sink and zoning out into the pot sometimes. 

He just isn’t sure how Seonghwa makes it look so attractive. 

“I like drinking champagne whenever I decide to. It’s just a nice reminder that rules don’t matter. An $8 bottle of champagne costs the same as an $8 bottle of red wine. Which is more fitting for the occasion?”

“The wine, I guess.”

“Why?” Seonghwa steps forward to place his hands on the counter space in front of him, leaning over it in interest. Jongho watches the muscles in his arms flex to distribute his weight.

“This seems like a trick question.” Jongho redirects his eyes back to Seonghwa’s and, again, finds humor there, like he thinks Jongho is being funny with him, like he’s in on the joke. “Wine is used more frequently in casual settings, isn’t it? Champagne is traditionally for celebrations.”

“When it snows, I like to drink champagne. I like the snow, I like champagne, I hate that certain things are limited to tradition. Is the snow not celebratory enough?” Jongho feels drawn in, like he’s a fly actively being pursued by the spider. It could be the way Seonghwa is looking at him, or it could be that he’s creating tension in his head where there is none. It certainly doesn’t feel that way.

“You can have whatever you want, hyung.” He means it, Seonghwa really could have whatever he wanted. Fuck the traditions - if Seonghwa wants to celebrate snowfall, Jongho will partake in that with him. 

“You too, Jongho.” And then, something incredible happens. 

Seonghwa  _ winks  _ at him. 

And uncovers the pot to stir, as if he’d done nothing at all. 

Jongho feels whiplash so thoroughly he simply gives up, melting into the couch. It isn’t until he hears Seonghwa pour more for himself that he remembers to drink. He drains the glass in one go.

Seonghwa comes to refill, giving him a quizzical look as he does so, and then tells him he’d return shortly, he’s going to deliver soup to the others in their cabins. The snow is getting too thick to gather as a group outside and everyone’s too worn out from the day to be sociable anyway. 

Jongho acknowledges him with a nod and only when the door shuts behind Seonghwa does he sit up, taking the second glass like a shot. He gets up to pace the room when he’s done, fingers brushing along the back of the couch each time he passes it by as if to keep him grounded so he doesn’t float away. He hasn’t had enough alcohol to warrant the lightness in his limbs, the way he feels like one step could send him into the air. 

It’s hot. 

The fire is as hot as last night, sweat beginning to bead at the back of his neck and his lower back. It must be the steam from the soup mingling with the heat from the fire that’s causing his shirt to cling to his back. 

Seonghwa’s not coming on to him. No way. There’s not a chance in hell Park Seonghwa has flipped a total 360 in a single day and night spent mostly apart. That would be crazy, right? 

Right?

Yes, that would be insane to think. Seonghwa flirts with the others all the time. He flits about, getting cheek kisses or quick pecks from Wooyoung and San whenever he’s feeling a bit promiscuous. No one’s ever seemed to mind it, it’s just how they take care of him, just like they don’t mind showing Jongho a bit of special attention when he’s in the mood for it. Seonghwa collects his kisses and scalp massages like they’re unpaid dues from whoever he wants, all except Jongho.

_ Eyes over Wooyoung’s shoulder in the club… _

“Ah! No! No, no, no. Not going there. No.” Jongho stops moving, placing both hands over his ears like if he can press hard enough, the thoughts will dissipate with the pressure. He feels ridiculous. It was a wink. He’d struggle to count all the winks San or Hongjoong toss at any one of them in a single day. 

And yet, this is new. 

“Shut up, shut up. It’s nothing. Pull yourself together, Jesus Christ.” Jongho shakes out his hands, trying to loosen a bit of the tension. He circles the couch once, trying to scope out the best place to act natural for when Seonghwa comes back; he could squat by the fire but he’s already sweating, he could go back to reading but  _ god _ , picking up that book feels like an instant return to dreamland, and frankly, he’s not above getting into the bath without turning on the lights or running the water.

Wooyoung’s tongue in his ear didn’t even do this to him, what the fuck? 

Yeah, he’s about ready to go sit in the bathtub in the dark, fuck it. 

Seonghwa returns far too soon though; Jongho hears the knob turn and glances at the digital clock on the stove, estimates only about ten minutes have passed since he stood up and started wearing holes in the floor. He’s still just standing behind the couch, unsure of what to do with himself.

“God, it’s so cold outside. Shit.” Seonghwa stomps snow from his boots as he comes in, bringing a rush of cold air that targets the sweat on Jongho’s neck and cools it uncomfortably.

_ Okay, you’re fine. Be natural.  _

“How was everyone?” Jongho refolds the blanket draped across the back of the couch, just to look busy while Seonghwa takes off his coat.

“Utter zombies,” Seonghwa laughs fondly, “Like half of them were asleep, the other half were close to it.” He tosses their cabin key onto the table and sighs. 

It’s quiet again. Jongho smooths the edges of the blanket, straightening out nonexistent wrinkles. 

“Hope all your soup efforts don’t go to waste.” 

“Yeah.” 

A heavier silence this time. Punctuated only by the crackling logs in the fireplace. The air is suddenly so thick, like when Seonghwa opened the door, he let in ghosts that are set on tormenting Jongho, dancing around him and stealing all of the words from his mouth. 

“You want some more champagne?”

No, he doesn’t. 

“Sure. Thanks, hyung.”

Seonghwa goes to retrieve Jongho’s glass from the coffee table, flashing him a timid smile on his way. Jongho swallows so he doesn’t smile back. 

_ Think about Wooyoung.  _

He never feels bad thinking about Wooyoung. Sometimes he feels guilty placing anyone else’s face over whatever object of desire he finds, but never Wooyoung, because it’s often by his own design that he’s there. Wooyoung touches him the most, it only makes sense. 

Jongho rounds the couch and sits in the middle of it, stiff as a board. He knows he looks uncomfortable and if he doesn’t knock it off, fix his posture and relax a little, he’s going to scare Seonghwa back behind that wall that came down today.

“Here, careful. I filled them up a bit higher this time.” Hand, flute, hold the stem tightly. Drink.

Seonghwa sits on the floor beside the fire, holding one nearly empty bottle in one hand and a brand new unopened bottle in the other. Jongho must be staring at the full one for too long, because Seonghwa turns it over to look at the label and say, “Ah, I just thought it’d be nice to have back up. We’re going through the other one quickly.” 

“That’s really nice, hyung.”

The smile Seonghwa gives him is painted in pretty swathes of fire, the way the light hits his side profile. Jongho notes for the first time that Seonghwa had switched the kitchen light off on his way over here.

“Oh, shit I’m sorry, you’re probably so hungry.” Seonghwa stands and Jongho does too, gesturing for him to take his seat. 

“No, let me. You cooked. I got it.” Once again, Jongho’s mouth operates on its own. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to mind, though. He shakes his head and scoots closer to the fire, but looks up at him expectantly, a pretty, delicate smile growing on his face. 

So, Jongho goes to the kitchen. 

It feels robotic to spoon the stew into two bowls Seonghwa left out for them, but he does so slowly, stealing glances at Seonghwa. He’s warming his hands, balancing his full flute on his knee just as Jongho had earlier. It’s cute when he does it. 

He has no idea how he’s going to get through this night. 

When he returns, he takes a deep breath as quietly as possible, and then sits on the floor next to Seonghwa. He’s still a bit overheated, but he wants to be closer. He likes the fire and the way it seems to fill the cracks in conversation, like it’s talking for them. 

Seonghwa thanks him for his bowl, and they eat in peace, and the odd, acute awareness Jongho had of Seonghwa when he came in from the cold is starting to dwindle. It drains with every silent refill of his drink and by the time their bellies are full of soup and alcohol, Jongho just feels  _ good.  _ Light. Like he can say anything and not feel embarrassed by the consequences. 

“Hyung, can I ask you something?” Jongho starts, watching the liquid in his glass swirl as he rotates it in his hand. 

“Of course.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” 

This silence doesn’t feel heavy anymore, though, Jongho doesn’t really feel much of anything right now. 

“No. Do I?” 

“No.” 

Seonghwa had answered with no hesitation, nothing in his voice to show it might be a lie. The question he lobs back into Jongho’s court hadn’t seemed serious, either, like he already knew what Jongho would say. 

“You know, I always thought you didn’t like me or something.” He laughs a little as he leans back on his elbows, letting his head hang back while the fire washes him in warmth.

“What? Why do you say that?” It almost sounds like hurt in Seonghwa’s voice, but he doesn’t bother looking over to check.

“The others kiss on you and hug on you all the time, but it’s hard for me to do that, so I thought you just paid me less attention.” 

This kind of conversation should make Jongho nervous. Right now, he should be destroying the edges of his nails, chewing them until they bleed. Pulling fibers from the carpet. Anything. 

“I thought  _ you  _ weren’t interested in  _ me. _ ” Seonghwa counters, which actually does make Jongho look at him. He’s frowning, eyebrows pulled tight and firm pout pressed into his lips. Just as he had been when he was assigned this cabin with Jongho.

“Why would you ever think that?” 

“Because you play with the others and never once tried to approach me like that. I thought maybe you just needed some time so I waited. By that time though, I started to pick up that you needed more than that.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Seonghwa shrugs, “You need your space a lot, Jongho. I never want to infringe on that.” 

“I don’t think you could if you tried, hyung.” It must hit home with Seonghwa because he looks down and twirls his glass, pursing his lips as though he is thinking something over. 

“Good to know.” But he looks...sad. Forlorn, almost.

“Stop making that face.”

“Which one?”

“The one you’re making right now, hyung!” Jongho giggles, because it’s funny how maybe it’s just that they avoided each other for the same reasons. Missed each other. 

His neck is starting to hurt, so he sits up a little bit and grins at Seonghwa’s conflicted face, set in deep frown lines. 

“What face?” And now he’s pouting. He’s _ pouting _ at Jongho, head tilted just so to the side. 

“No face, hyung. Nevermind. You’re always very pretty.” Jongho leans forward to pat his cheek, distracting him to reach around and grab the unopened bottle. Seonghwa startles at his close proximity but doesn’t back away, lets Jongho take the bottle and study it for a second. “How do I get this open?”

“I’ll do it. You’re gonna shoot your eye out.” Seonghwa holds his hand out for the bottle and laughs when Jongho tucks it into his chest protectively. No, thank you very much,  _ he  _ wants to open this one on his own. He’s a grown ass man.

“I’m a grown ass man.” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up past his hairline, disappearing beneath wispy bangs swept delicately over his forehead. He likes when Seonghwa’s hair is a little wavy and textured like that, exposing just a bit of the smooth skin underneath and a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. 

“Yes, I know that. Give me the bottle, though. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Seonghwa extends his hand out again, but now this is a game. Jongho thinks of Wooyoung slinking up to him, casually, like it was nothing to press their bodies together. 

Hmm. 

“Come over here and get it yourself then.” And, just to be cheeky, he sticks his tongue out. Seonghwa can never resist an invitation to play. 

“Fine!” Seonghwa draws himself up on his knees and leans into Jongho’s space, immediately going for the bottle. Jongho ducks his arm and drops to the floor, curling around the bottle and holding it tightly to his chest. 

He plays with Mingi like this all the time, just to be a brat. Will take Wooyoung or Yunho’s phones and see if they can prise it out of his fingers. It’s just a confidence booster for his strength. 

This should feel no different. 

Seonghwa’s fingers dig into his ribs until he loosens his hold, “Ah, you little brat,” and manages to get his whole hand just underneath Jongho’s bicep towards the bottle before he traps him. 

“Just tell me how to open it and we can end this!” 

“No!” 

Seonghwa leans his body weight over Jongho, attacking from above rather than trying to sneak his way under Jongho’s arms. Seonghwa’s heavier than he looks, his thin torso and small waist fitting right into Jongho’s side as he reaches around him and pulls at the bottom of the bottle. Jongho  _ almost  _ loses his grip - because he’s distracted by the way Seonghwa feels against him, warm from sitting in front of the fire, stronger than he looks and long, goodness, his entire arm wraps around Jongho perfectly - but he holds steady, and he can’t stop laughing because he never imagined this. If someone told Past Jongho from an hour ago that he and Seonghwa would be rolling around on this gross carpet fighting over a bottle of cheap champagne, he’d have laughed until he was blue in the face. 

He doesn’t have much time for pondering, too focused on trying to keep Seonghwa at bay while giving him just enough of an edge to keep him interested, but this reminds him of Hongjoong and Wooyoung in the snow earlier. Seonghwa bearing down on him, laughing and making all these cute rumbly noises every time Jongho gets the upper hand again...it’s a lot like them. 

This recollection proves to be his downfall. 

Seonghwa braces himself with a palm flat next to Jongho’s head and seems to sense he isn’t paying much attention anymore, because he slips the bottle from under Jongho’s arms. “Ha! I win.” Seonghwa holds it above him like a prize, the seam of his sweater rising just above the band of his jeans, and Jongho can’t help it anymore. The pride and happiness mixing in Seonghwa’s sparkly eyes, it’s just too much. He  _ wants  _ that moment, and he wants it with Seonghwa. 

He wants it now. 

Slowly, just in case he’s misread the mood, he shows Seonghwa how he reaches for his face, palm open. Seonghwa stops laughing. He watches Jongho’s hand curiously, but it seems like he knows what’s coming, and he isn’t backing away from it. 

The first touch of Jongho’s palm to Seonghwa’s face is searing with heat - from the laughter, from the adrenaline, from the fire still blazing away feet from them. His fingers push through the hair by his ear, exploring the softness of his natural waves, still waiting to be pushed away. 

When he looks at Seonghwa, his eyes are half-lidded and hazy, like the alcohol and the tension is finally catching up with him, too. He holds Seonghwa’s neck gently and when he guides him, Seonghwa comes easily until the tip of his nose brushes Jongho’s. 

If he thought he was in control of the moment, he’s  _ very  _ wrong. Seonghwa takes the lead and presses pause on time itself, taking his time nosing around Jongho’s face, letting his lips touch but never linger on his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth. 

“ _ Please,”  _ he whispers, desperate for more than a faint stroke. Seonghwa pulls back to check in on him, make sure it’s not too much, but he’s this close to begging for it. Just a small kiss, just one. He just wants that moment. 

Seonghwa leans down and presses a feather-light kiss in the center of his mouth, no more than a few seconds and his lips are so warm and soft and fit perfectly with Jongho’s he nearly moans. It’s not like kissing Wooyoung or Mingi or San, it’s nothing like that at all. 

He nearly whines when Seonghwa pulls away again, opens his mouth and asks him in the quietest voice he’s ever heard, “Are you okay?” 

And Jongho decides he’s had enough of Seonghwa making choices for him. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” And this time, Jongho’s hand tightens in Seonghwa’s hair when he drags him down for another kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~oooh~  
> expect the rating to go up next chapter!! <3
> 
> twt @yoontoagoblin

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha this almost turned into a hyunjin x jongho but i had to restrain myself
> 
> twitter: @yoontoagoblin


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